Icarus
by valathe
Summary: And she knew then, without a doubt, that she'd return to Angela. Because she was the sun, bright and merciless; and it was Icarus' fate to chase after the sun; higher and higher until the wax melted, until the feathers caught fire, until she plummeted towards the ocean. Again and again and again. \\ rated M for nudeness and implied sexual content


When she woke up, her first thought was to wonder when she'd actually dozed off. Her second thought was about _why_ she'd woken up: the stench of smoke, always a surefire sign of alarm from her days in the military, even when asleep. She shifted a little bit, and her gaze zeroed in on the source; sitting on the broad windowsill with a cigarette between her fingers, knees tucked under her chin, the robe open and revealing. She hadn't gotten dressed yet.

Apparently she hadn't noticed her companion waking up yet, so Fareeha contended herself with watching Angela from the bed, marveling at just how beautiful she was. The twilight of a new dawn was slowly creeping across the horizon, but for now the glow of the cigarette remained the only real source of light in the room. It flared up when Angela took a deep drag, slowly exhaling towards the tilted window.

Fareeha drank it all in. The way her slightly tousled hair fell over her shoulders, hiding everything but the tip of her nose. The slender fingers, holding the cigarette; fingers that had been inside her barely half an hour ago. She remembered the sounds they had coaxed out of her throat, the absolute abandon only _she_ could provide...her heart clenched painfully as affection welled up in her chest, bittersweet for she knew it wasn't reciprocated.

Levity, she decided, was her only recourse now.

"You know those will kill you." she said, trying and failing horribly to emulate the German accent Angela devolved into any time she got agitated.

The Swiss whipped her head around, almost dropping the cigarette; and, as if on instinct, drew the robe closer to her form. It was of no use, of course. There was nothing there Fareeha hadn't already seen, touched, _pleasured_...she had committed every contour of Angela's heavenly body to memory, if only for it to torment her in those awful nights she had to spend alone.

The blonde looked at her for a moment, head tilted to the side, and then she _smiled_. Not a friendly smile, the ones she graced (almost) all of their brothers and sisters in arms with, not the professional smile she wore when she said _"you're going to be fine"_ or _"this might hurt just a bit"_. No, this smile was an altogether different creature: small and lopsided, almost understated, but it was genuine. An expression of fond feelings and affection. Hope flared up within her, but she tamped it down – she had already dared soaring too high before, gotten too close to the sun, and the result had been...predictable. No, she definitely didn't need a repeat of _that_ conversation, not when the hurt it caused was still so fresh in her memory.

"You know that's my line, right?" Angela murmured, oblivious to Fareeha's inner turmoil. It was an exceedingly rare thing, seeing this tender side of Angela's come out of hiding. Soft words, warm smiles, it never failed to make her think that there _had_ to be a future for the both of them; somewhere, sometime.

"Quite the hypocrite, then, aren't we, _Doctor_?" she quipped instead of giving voice to those thoughts.

"Oh quiet, you." Angela admonished, again with that gentle smile, before she took a last, deep drag; flipping the spent cigarette out of the window. She looked at the faintly glowing handles of the clock hanging above the door and sighed, almost imperceptibly, before she got up from the windowsill and started gathering up her clothes strewn across the room.

Fareeha watched, equal parts admiring and despairing, how Angela tugged on her underwear, slipped her arms into the blouse, started buttoning it up.

"You could stay." she murmured, only realizing she had spoken out loud when Angela froze, briefly, before she resumed doing up her buttons.

"It's almost five, Fareeha. If I don't leave now I could run into someone."

She knew, of course, Angela was right. She knew she should leave it at that. They had a good thing going, even if it hurt just a little bit to see Angela so intent of keeping it a secret.

She knew all those things in her rational mind, but humans are, at their very core, deeply irrational creatures. And so, despite some part of brain crying and wailing in protest, her mouth formed words she knew she'd regret the moment they left her lips.

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

Angela's back went ramrod-straight for a moment before her shoulders sagged, and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Not this conversation again, Fareeha. We have a good thing going here, why do you have to insist on needlessly complicating it?"

She got up now, not caring in the slightest that she was still naked. "We have a good thing, yes, but it could be so much more, Angela! Don't you feel this connection betwe-"

"No!", Angela cut her off vehemently,d ragging the skirt up her legs in a swift motion, "I don't _feel_ anything between us. You _knew_ what you were getting into from the beginning, _I don't do feelings, that was the deal!"_

Fareeha bit her tongue to keep the _'Well I do!'_ from tumbling out, blinking rapidly and cursing herself for being so damn stupid once again. She just had to test her luck, based on nothing but conjecture and wishful thinking. Like Icarus she dared too fly close to the sun, and she was falling, falling, falling; nothing to look forward to but the cold embrace of the sea.

Suddenly her nude state bothered her very much, a stark reminder of how she readily laid herself bare before Angela, body and soul, while the blonde flat-out refused to do anything of the sort.

"Just go, then." she choked out, now turned sideways, face averted to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Angela remained motionless for a moment, and yet again a flutter of hope stirred in her chest - only to be dashed when she heard a sigh followed by footsteps heading away, towards the door; and not for the first time she asked herself why it had to be _her, only her_ , and if it would ever stop hurting.

Angela hesitated at the door, briefly, and said: "Maybe we should take a break to...cool down. To deal with any _lingering doubts_ about this arrangement. You know where to find me."

And with that she was gone.

Only after the door had shut again did she allow the sob to break free, sinking to her knees with her face in her hands. And she knew then, without a doubt, that she'd return to Angela. Because she was the sun, bright and merciless; and it was Icarus' fate to chase after the sun; higher and higher until the wax melted, until the feathers caught fire, until she plummeted towards the ocean. Again and again and again.

* * *

i've written too much fluff lately, so here's another healthy dose of angst. enjoy.

Song of the day is antaeus by khuda


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